[Tim Murphy]

I hit the jackpot. Last year our Catharine Brosman published Multum in Parvo, a collection of twelve epigrams, in Chronicles. I sent thirty epigrammatic poems to Greg Williamson, poetry editor of Sewanee Theological Review, and he took twenty-six of them. Multum in Parvo II.

[Martin Elster]

Glad to hear about all the good news, Tim. Congrats!

[Janice D. Soderling]

Tim, setting aside for the moment (or taking for granted) the worthiness of your poetry, all this friend of mine, my hunting buddy, known him for years, etcetera, tacked onto your notices of publication might lead others to believe that it is who you know, the old boy's network, who your mentor is that determines whether one is published or not.

That might well further discourage those who are already wavering on the question: to submit or not to submit.

Do you ever test new ground or just stick to sending to your friends and boon companions?

[marly youmans]

That Wilbur anecdote! Of course, it says something about the strength and beauty of his work. But surely it also says something of interest about coming up as a poet in a certain place and time, with a certain sort of Northeastern education and teaching career--having that wonderful world where poetry mattered to many people, knowing Frost and Stevens and so on. I've read interviews where he talked about the poets of his generation, particularly Bishop and Lowell, and about Frost and Stevens, but don't know so much about the other elements.

[Tim Murphy]

Janice, of course I have to find new venues. Because so many of my trusted editors fold their tents. Every new venue is a cold call, although I admit it's often a cold call from a young editor who knows my work.

The day is long gone when Dickie Wilbur could be grabbed by Harcourt and The New Yorker at age 26 and never have to look elsewhere. Ask Quincy Lehr, Nick Friedman, Jehanne Dubrow, Jenny Reeser, or Aaron Poochigian how hard it is to get started.

And Marly, it's not like I'm some New England aristocrat who grew up with Frost and Stevens. Farming in North Dakota is not the best platform for launching books of poetry. But many kind souls, many of them New Englanders, have taken me under their wings, and I try to do what I can for the youngsters I encounter here and elsewhere.

And now I'll gloat: 51 acceptances in fourteen days. Time to write a new poem!

[Gail White]

Originally Posted by marly youmans

That Wilbur anecdote! Of course, it says something about the strength and beauty of his work. But surely it also says something of interest about coming up as a poet in a certain place and time, with a certain sort of Northeastern education and teaching career--having that wonderful world where poetry mattered to many people, knowing Frost and Stevens and so on. I've read interviews where he talked about the poets of his generation, particularly Bishop and Lowell, and about Frost and Stevens, but don't know so much about the other elements.

Marly, when you read the correspondence of Bishop and Lowell, you will find that they had no great opinion of the young Wilbur's poetry. I believe everybody starts from nowhere and makes it on his own.

[Tim Murphy]

Good point, Gail. Dick was a farm boy from New Jersey who lapped his seniors in the art.